30cm. between our hands on the bench (planning a future that is golden with harvest) 22cm. between our fingers on the cardboard (building a model craft to carry humanity) 17cm. between our breaths, checking marks (the blueprint now real, now questioned, now graded) 15cm. between our chairs in the garage (our fears and the fans carry heat from a simulator) 9cm. between our rulers and our boxblades 6cm. between our eyes over the side 4cm. between our shoulders at assembly nothing between my hands and your hip overnight Lightyears. between your rocket and my chest, the rattle of its jets spreading growth rings in my ribs marking separation by each and every fraction every meter every millimeter of success.
Bethany Powell stumbled into speculative verse on the isolated plains of Oklahoma and has been in a fateful relationship with it ever since. Poems from this union have recently appeared in Asimov's, Liminality, and the solarpunk anthology Sunvault. More are forthcoming, and all be found at bethanypowell.com.